


Here In the Forest

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kid Fic, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:58:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles meet the summer after his mom died, when Stiles' dad sent him to live with his aunt while he gets help for this alcohol addiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here In the Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Inertia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001802) by [apocryphal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphal/pseuds/apocryphal). 



> this just happened i'm sorry  
> Derek is 13 and Stiles is 12 or 11 and I never mention it ever besides right now

There's a new kid moving into the house next door.

Derek and Laura sit atop their fence, trading ice cream licks as they watch the small boy shuffle up the driveway.

A woman walks with him, smile pulled tight as she runs her hand through his hair.

“What do you think?” Laura asks, stealing two licks. Derek swipes it back, scowling at her. “Mrs. G's nephew?”

Derek shrugs and takes three licks, smiling at the hurt noise Laura makes, “Don't really care.”

He takes a big bite, laughing as Laura huffs and shoves him off of the fence. He lands in the bush with a laugh, the boy forgotten.

~*~

It's two weeks later, days before the next full moon, when Derek sees the boy again. He's sitting by the river, throwing pebbles at the shallow water and watching sullenly as they get swept away.

Derek leans against a thick tree and watches the kid for a few seconds, huffing as he catches his breath. He can smell Cora up hill. She's going in the wrong direction, towards Laura. Derek thinks he has a few minutes to rest.

The kid tilts his head up and stares past Derek, into the expanse of leaves behind him, and says, “Rivers are made of fresh water, and that's why pirates used to travel through the Mississippi and Ohio rivers.”

He puts too much stress on the _ss_ sound. Derek shrugs, “My dad says that pirates don't exist.”

The kid's eyes jump to him, and Derek's almost struck by their odd, gold color.

“Hasn't your dad ever seen Pirates of the Caribbean?”

Derek looks down at his shoes and kicks a rock. It bounces off of a fallen branch and lands in the water with a _plop_ before it sinks to the bottom. The kid pulls up his jacket sleeve and rubs at the water drops that landed on his cheek.

“My mom doesn't really let us watch movies,” Derek says, his mom's voice in his ear, rattling on about frequencies and exposures and lights. _Your eyes will adjust someday, dear._

The kid's face falls for two seconds, his heart almost completely silent in a way that makes Derek worry his bottom lip, before he stands, brushing dirt from the knees of his jeans, and scowls, “That's stupid.”

Derek shoves his hands in his jacket pockets before walking down the small hill. He doesn't even think about it before he steps across the stones, hopping from one rock to the other until he's on the same side as the other kid.

He doesn't really know what to say to that, so he just stares silently.

The kid thrust his hand out in a fist, nodding, “'m Stiles.”

Derek reluctantly taps the small first with his own, “Derek.”

~*~

Stiles is, in fact, Mrs. G's nephew. He stays in a guest room with a queen sized bed and a radio that only plays audio books. Stiles says the tapes help him sleep.

Derek doesn't ask how. He has trouble sleeping when the neighbors leave their TV on.

Stiles has an entire backpack full of comic books. Some of them are ones that his mom won't let him read because they're too graphic, but Stiles says his dad doesn't really agree with restrictive reading.

There's a quilt on the bed that looks like roses. Sometimes, when he thinks Derek's too absorbed in his comic, he can see Stiles run his hand along the stitching almost reverently. His hummingbird heart slows as he traces the patterns. Derek mildly wonders if the quilt has some kind of Stiles-only calming serum.

“Isn't Tim the coolest?” Stiles asks, as he manages to pull his hand away from the leaf of a red rose.

Derek snorts, “Yeah, sure, maybe if Dick didn't exist.”

~*~

Derek doesn't really know why everyone calls Stiles' aunt Mrs. G. As far as he knows, the woman's never been married in her life.

And her name is Betty.

His mom says it's because she used to be a model for some auto magazine. His dad says it was her gimmick, pretending to be the wife of Mr. G, the tire store owner.

Stiles just looks at him in confusion when he asks.

She makes great sandwiches though, and whenever he leaves, she pulls him by his wrist and presses a quiet kiss to his forehead, a whispered “Thank you” into his hairline.

Derek doesn't know what he's done to make Mrs. G so happy, but if it has to do with hanging out with Stiles, then he doesn't really need her to thank him.

Derek would hang out with Stiles anyway.

~*~

“When do you have to go back home?” Derek asks, arms out to his sides as he balances on a log.

Stiles is laying on a huge rock, watching idly as Derek pretends he's on a high wire. There's a straw hanging out of his mouth and Stiles jaw quivers every few seconds as he bites down on it, like a dog. He pulls his hands out from under his head and shrugs, “When my dad gets better, I guess.”

Stiles has been here for a little over a month.

Derek hops off the log and sits on a rock near Stiles' feet. He's been learning how to smell different emotions, and hates it because Stiles almost always smells sad. Derek just wants Stiles to be happy.

Derek's mom almost started crying when he told her this last week.

“When do'ya think he's gonna get better?”

Stiles shrugs and takes the straw out of his mouth, looking at the plastic as if he's considering it. Stiles heaves himself up until he's standing on the rock, eyes squinting as he looks around the sun and into the forest. He pulls his arm back and thrust forward, watching with still eyes as the straw flies through the air. It lands quietly.

Stiles sits back down as soon as its out of sight. His scent turns sour and Derek’s nose scrunches up.

“I don't know,” He admits in a quiet, quivering voice, “My mom didn't get better.”

It's not the first time that Derek wished he could take away more than physical pain.

~*~

Derek's a deep sleeper. He always has been. Laura jokes that Derek could sleep through the apocalypse. Cora likes to turn on his CD player and watch him slumber right on through it.

It comes as a surprise to him when he's wrenched out of his sleep on a muggy night in July. He doesn't know why, but he can't help but feel like something's wrong. There's a pounding in his ears, but it doesn't belong to him, and anxiety curls in his gut, almost crippling him.

He knows he should get his mom,but the only thought running through his head is that _something's wrong_ , and he whines low in his chest.

Derek throws his window open and jumps from the second floor without even thinking about it, rolling gracefully into a crouch. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he's off.

He doesn't know where he's running, only that there's this need pressing down on him, forcing him to ignore the howl of his alpha, of his mom.

He finds himself outside Mrs. G's house, the thumping in his ear a roar now. It's the tune of Stiles' heart, he realizes belatedly. It's going fast- way faster than normal.

It only takes him a second to find Stiles' window and throw it open. He thinks he breaks the lock on it but he can't care right now, too focused on the small whines and sobs coming from the quivering mass on the bed.

The story on the radio's ran out, a lone ticking noise that indicates the tape needs to be flipped over. Derek pops it out and switches to side B, blindly pressing buttons until a voice comes on.

As soon as it starts, Derek pulls back the covers.

He's unprepared to see Stiles clutching his chest, gasping for breath with his eyes clenched shut.

His heart is practically slamming into his rib cage, muscles twitching and tensing and Stiles is crying- teeth clamped into a pillow to stifle his sobs.

Something in him aches to see Stiles like this, his instincts whining over the thick blanket of pain he can feel from the boy. It's almost smothering him.

Derek calls out for him softly, his hand clamping on Stiles' arm to shake him. The only thing it does is make Stiles shake harder, chest rising and falling so fast that Derek doubts any air is actually getting into his lungs.

There's a figure in the window and Derek growls on instinct before he catches the scent.

He shrinks back as he sees his mom, knowing he definitely shouldn't be out of the house this late, but his heart is thumping _protectprotectprotect_ almost as quick as Stiles' is pumping.

His mother gently shushes him before climbing in the window. The expression on his face clearly promises that they'll be talking about this later, but there's a softness in her eyes as she looks at Stiles that makes Derek think he's not entirely in trouble.

She gently bumps him out of the way and her body just seems to curl around Stiles' naturally. He moves quick to grab onto her, holding her tight to him. Derek remembers when he was younger and had trouble controlling his shift, his mom would press her teeth into the back of his neck and hold him, her hand curling over her heart as if to calm it by touch.

“Breathe,” She whispers into the stillness of the room, and Stiles makes a visible effort at the command, but all that comes out is more gasping hiccups for air.

“I-I ca-n't,” He tries, and his mom's arms go around Stiles' back to pull him closer.

“Shh,” She says again. She tilts her shin down to butt into his head, forcing Stiles' ear to land on her chest, “Listen to my heartbeat, little one. Breathe. Come on, you can do it.”

It takes a few more tries, but finally Stiles seems to calm down some. His heart is slower, but still rabbit fast, and if Derek looks, he knows there will be tears down his friends face.

“What's the matter?” His mom asks, carding her fingers through the boys hair, “Was it a bad dream?”

Stiles shakes his head and his hands fist themselves in her shirt. Derek fights the urge to crawl in on Stiles' other side, caught between needing to let Stiles know he's safe, and not wanting to break the careful spell his mom has created.

“No, I-” Stiles tries, then shakes his head. He buries his face in her neck and Talia shushes him again, as if hearing the boy about to work himself up again, “I just- She didn't want me.”

“What?” Derek asks, brow furrowing.

Talia sends him a look that instantly snaps his mouth shut.

“What do you mean?” His mom asks, voice gentle despite the glare she's sending Derek.

“My mom. I- She didn't want me- because I was bad. And, and my dad. My dad sent me away because I killed mom, and-”

Derek's mom looks as if she wants to snarl at the mere thought of it. Derek's own teeth are on edge.

Talia shushes him again and holds the boy closer. The air is salty with Stiles' tears, and Derek can't fight the urge anymore. He slips in behind Stiles and squeezes him between them, burying his face under Stiles' shoulder.

It takes an hour of whispered assurances and shushing, but Stiles finally falls back asleep, still mumbling about his father not wanting him anymore.

Derek and Talia's eyes meet over the sleeping head, both equally sad at the thought of so much pain in such a little boy.

~*~

Things are mostly normal after that.

Stiles and Derek still spend most of the day running through the woods, talking, or reading, but there's a new weightlessness to all of their fun that wasn't there before.

His mom's still mad at him for running away like that, but he thinks she understands. She didn't seem all that upset when she had reprimanded Derek later that night, and she had even demanded that he bring Stiles around more.

Cora thinks Stiles is cute. Derek fights the urge to bare his teeth at her whenever she giggles.

Laura just smirks like she knows something, and all it does is succeed to make Derek frustrated.

He tries to get Stiles to hang out in the woods more. At least his stupid sisters don't go out there all the time.

~*~

Stiles is here for two months when he decides he wants to build a fort.

“My aunt says it's good to get invested in a long term project,” Stiles says when he tells Derek this, sounding like he's quoting directly from Mrs. G.

Derek doesn't have anything better to do, so he sneaks into the garage and borrows his dad's hammer and a set of nails. They smuggle them out in Stiles' backpack, running as soon as Derek thinks he hears someone moving too close to the garage door.

Derek's hand grips Stiles' as he pulls him faster, laughing breathlessly as they run through the backwoods surrounding his house.

It's only a minute into their running that Stiles pulls him to a stop, smiling so bright that Derek fears he may be blinded, but something keeps him from turning away. He's never seen Stiles so happy.

He wants to do something, but he can't tell what the swirl in his gut means. The fluttering in his chest is a new feeling, something he feels that he shouldn't be afraid of, but he doesn't understand it, and it scares him, so he looks away, kicking a twig into a tree.

Stiles keeps grinning, unaware of Derek's change in mood, “Didn't you say there was some wood around here somewhere?”

Derek pulls Stiles up until he's standing, no longer over taken by his giggles, “Yeah. Laura and I found some over here.”

The walk for almost an hour, talking about nonsensical things. Well, Stiles talks. Derek listens.

“Plants have existed for four hundred million years.”

“The oldest tree is, like, 4,700 years old.”

“Some forest fires actually help the forest grow.”

“Trees can grow as tall as 328 feet. Dude. Do you get how huge that is?”

“We would have to plant trees _all over_ Australia to reverse the effects of Global Warming.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff anyway?” Derek asks, after Stiles goes on for ten minutes about the rock cycle and how planting trees can slow down erosion.

Stiles bites his lip and looks away, “My mom was a park ranger.”

Derek lets Stiles talk about the forest as much as he wants after that.

~*~

Finding the clearing would have been easier if Stiles was a wolf too, but they get there eventually.

There's a pile of broken wood piled against a tree, like someone planned to do something with it but just forgot about it. There are some weeds curled around the edges, and Derek makes sure Stiles isn't looking as he cuts them away with his claws.

They spend the rest of the day holding walls together and hammering them in place. Derek breaks a board in half and they use it as a ramp to add a second story to their house. He uses the other half to make a second floor.

It won't pass any building inspections, but later, when they're laying down and looking up at the stars, watching fireflies buzz over their heads, Derek doesn't think a house has ever been more perfect.

Stiles has a spare piece of paper in his backpack, and he uses mud to draw a map on it to their fort.

Derek won't forget where it is, but he smiles at Stiles' dirty hands, the way he sticks his tongue between his lips in concentration as he tries to get the dotted lines just perfect.

It looks like a treasure map, with an X to make the spot. Derek says that a map has never been more accurate.

Stiles smiles.

~*~

Derek's dad yells at him for taking the hammer without asking, but his mom just hides an affectionate smile behind her hand and kisses him on his head.

Derek really doesn't know if he's in trouble or not.

~*~

Stiles drags Derek out to their fort everyday.

They don't play pretend though, because Stiles says he read a book and he doesn't want Derek to die and Derek just wanted Stiles to stop being upset so he agreed that playing pretend was a bad idea.

Sometimes Mrs. G packs them some of her sandwiches and Stiles will lay his head on Derek's lap as he eats, talking with his mouth open about anything that comes to mind. Derek rolls his eyes fondly when Stiles spits crumbs all over his legs.

His mom will occasionally run out and bring them two cups of lemonade or water and muse their hair up, telling them to keep hydrated. She'll always make some comment about how they should grow up to be architects, patting the side of their fort and calling it “sturdy”.

Stiles thinks it's a great idea. Derek scoffs, but that night, he can't help but draw a sign for their future business.

**Stilinski &Hale Construction.**

He writes it in a rainbow pattern with crayons because Stiles likes colorful things, going by the insane color combinations of his clothes, and when his mom sees it, she has to fight back a laugh to tell him it's perfect. Derek is slightly skeptical of the compliment.

When he shows it to Stiles though, the boy immediately tapes it to their fort, nodding as if the sign is the finishing touch to the Mona Lisa.

~*~

There's a summer storm coming in, so Derek's dad helps him and Stiles put a tarp over their fort.

“Are you sure it's going to be safe?” Stiles asks, double knotting his corner of the tarp. “Some storms can take down _entire trees_.”

“It'll be fine,” Derek assures him, adding a whispered, “Worry wart,” under his breath.

He laughs as he dodges the slap Stiles swats at his arm. Stiles tries to hit him again, growling his last name between his teeth. His tone is light and heart beat normal, though, so Derek just smirks and runs.

Stiles laughs as he chases him between the trees, skidding through damp dirt to catch up with him.

Derek's dad mumbles about kids and work ethics as he finishes putting the tarp up. Derek will thank him later.

~*~

Derek stays the night at Stiles' house because it's easier than running down the dirt road in the rain the next morning.

They stay up and tell stupid jokes. Derek doesn't even know what they're doing when Mrs. G comes in and tells them to be quiet, but it must have been loud.

Stiles says the audio book word for word in a mocking voice while Derek laughs uncontrollably.

They've already agreed to share the bed, but Stiles is holding onto his quilt like he's afraid it's going to get ruined and Derek doesn't ask to share it.

“I don't sleep with blankets,” Derek lies, watching Stiles trace a rose petal with a lost expression on his face.

“I helped my mom make it,” Stiles says, as if he didn't hear Derek anyway, “There wasn't anything else to do in the hospital so we decided to make a quilt.”

Derek's nose twitches at the bitter smell coming from Stiles.

“It looks like you guys spent a lot of time on it together,” He points out, for lack of anything better to say. His hands twitch to grab Stiles and hug him until he stops smelling so upset. He wants his mom here, so they can cradle him between them and take his pain away. He wants-

He doesn't know what he wants when he looks at Stiles like this.

Stiles smiles sadly, “We did. You should have seen how many times she stabbed herself with the needle. I'd never heard her curse so much.”

Derek feels inexplicably honored when he climbs into bed and Stiles throws half of the quilt over him. The boy shuffles over quietly and Derek holds his breath, fighting the urge to reach out and trace his finger over Stiles' moles. He's never noticed how many eyelashes Stiles has, how his nose scrunches when he grins.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but immediately closes it and bites his lip.

“Night,” He whispers, instead of whatever he'd been planning.

~*~

Mrs. G makes them eggs in the morning, and says, “I was planning on chocolate chip pancakes, but I've ran out of batter, so how about we make chocolate chip cookies instead?”

Derek decides he never wants to leave Mrs. G's house if this is what breakfast is like every morning.

Stiles and Derek mix the ingredients together, each taking turns stealing finger fulls of dough when Mrs. G isn't looking.

“The salmonella is totally worth it,” Stiles groans, licking the spoon.

Derek agrees.

Mrs. G isn't too surprised when she peaks over and sees that there's hardly enough dough left for one batch. She shoos them away, giggling, while she scoops what's left over onto the tray.

She smirks, “A bunch of little devils, you two are.”

Stiles pours ketchup over his eggs and pretends that it's blood. Derek tries to ignore the rush of affection he feels.

~*~

Derek's eating lunch when Stiles shows up at his house, face red and heart pounding.

Derek's mom brings him into the house immediately and Derek abandons the meal as soon as he catches Stiles' scent.

It's not a panic attack like last time, but he is visibly upset. His dad grabs Laura and Cora by the collars of their shirts and drag them back into the kitchen, whispering that they should give Stiles some privacy.

“Sweetheart,” His mom says, crouching down to look Stiles in the eye, “What's wrong? Tell me what happened.”

Stiles' eyes water and he clutches himself at Talia, wrapping himself around her like a monkey.

“My dad,” Stiles mumbles, muffled by her shoulder, “He's here. He's here and I'm- I'm scared. I-”

Derek's sees his moms eyes flash their alpha red. He's never feared that his mom would kill someone, but seeing her stance over Stiles, the way her eyes flicker and heart pound, makes him rethink his stance on the matter.

His mom carefully extracts Stiles from her and rubs a soothing hand up and down his arm.

“I'm going to have a chat with your dad and aunt, okay sweetie?” She tells him, smiling soothingly. She reaches out for Derek's hand and interlaces it with Stiles' own, “Derek's going to take care of you while I'm gone, alright? Why don't you two boys go upstairs?”

Derek can feel her alpha order behind the words, the demand that he take care of Stiles pumping through his veins. He didn't need the command, but accepts it.

He tugs on Stiles' hand, leading him up the stairs as his mom and dad whisper. Derek focuses on Stiles' heartbeat instead, listening to him calming down.

Once they're in his bedroom, Stiles flops on Derek's bed, groaning, “I'm sorry I came crying to your mom.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Stiles,” He says, “If you haven't noticed, my mom doesn't mind. We just want to make sure you're okay.”

Stiles is silent.

He presses, “Are you okay?”

It takes a few seconds, but Stiles swallows loudly and nods, “Yeah. I am, I mean. It's my dad, you know? I love him, and I know he loves me. Being here is awesome, but I've missed him a lot, you know?” Stiles bites his lip, “I just keep thinking about what he said to me last time I saw him.”

The air tastes salty again, and Derek looks away. He doesn't think Stiles will want him to see him cry.

“He was drunk,” Stiles says, “Aunt Betty says he didn't mean it.”

Derek sits on the bed next to Stiles and throws himself back, laying next to him. Stiles is staring at the ceiling, looking lost and quiet in a way Derek's never seen him.

Reaching for Stiles' hand again is almost instinct at this point. Stiles grips him hard in return.

“That doesn't make it hurt less,” Derek tells him.

Stiles looks down at their hands and rubs his thumb along his own. His brow furrows.

“How do you always know what to say?” He asks, eyes jumping back to Derek's own.

Derek scoots closer, trapping their intertwined hands flush against their sides, “I don't know. I just... try to make you not sad.”

Stiles snorts, “You're really good at it.”

Warmth blooms in Derek's chest. His eyes drop to Stiles' lips, and when he looks back up, Stiles' have done the same.

There's that feeling again, the pull in his gut. He's been meaning to ask his dad about it, about what it means. Lately, he's been starting to think of an _l_ word that isn't _like_ , and it scares him. But, it also feels good. It's a scary good.

Stiles leans back and looks back up at the ceiling again, squeezing Derek's hand.

Holding hands is more than enough for now, though.

Derek squeezes back.

~*~

Talia returns an hour later, a tight smile on her face.

Derek and Stiles are sitting on the couch when she finds them, talking about what shows Derek should watch when he's able to watch TV again. Stiles saw the TV in their living room and thinks he's on a semi permanent grounding and Derek hasn't corrected him.

His mom rubs her hands together and crouches down in front of Stiles, hiding her scent from Derek in a way that only an alpha can.

“Your dad's ready to take you home,” She says, holding his hand, and Derek's stomach drops, “He's better now, and if you think he's acting up then your aunt and I want you to call us. She's going to give you both of our numbers, okay? And I want you to hold onto them and call if you need to. Got it?”

Stiles' eyes widen and he nods readily, eyes snapping to the window to see if his dad is there.

“He's still at your aunts sweetie. Derek and I are going to walk you over there,” Talia bites her lip, looking troubled, “You don't have to go back if _you're_ not ready, you know that, right Stiles? You can take a few more weeks.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No. I think- I think we need each other now.”

Talia smiles at him, “That's very mature of you, Stiles.” She looks over at Derek, and says, “I have to go talk to your father. We'll get going in a few minutes.”

Derek waits until she's out of the room before turning to Stiles. He stamps down on the feeling growing in his gut and smiles, because this is a good thing. Stiles needs his dad, especially after he's lost his mom. Derek knows that, on some level.

But he can't help but feel like he's never going to have a friend as good as Stiles.

He doesn't know what he thought would happen when he heard that Stiles' dad was here, but for some reason it just didn't click that Stiles was going to leave.

“So,” He says, “You're going back home.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods, “I guess so.”

They both just stare at each other for a few seconds, before Derek finally blurts out, “I'm gonna miss you.”

And Stiles smiles and laughs, “Of course you are. I'm great.”

It happens before Derek can blink. Stiles leans over and presses his lips to his cheek, and his entire body tingles with a rush of warmth.

Stiles pulls back, grinning, “And I'm going to miss you too. I'll try to come back next summer,” He says, and adds under his breath, “Under better circumstances, hopefully.”

Derek reaches over and holds Stiles' hand, linking their fingers together. Next summer isn't that far away, not when he knows that Stiles is going to be happy.

And, really, that's all he wants.


End file.
